Seeing Double
by sku7314977
Summary: When bodies start turning up all over Bucharest in a series of violent and gruesome displays an old friend of Jack's calls in a favor to borrow the FBI agents best profiler. A less than pleased Will Graham is soon shipped off to Bucharest in the hopes of helping local Police track down the killer bloodying Romanians streets with a litter of corpses. WARNING:Unhealthy Relationships
1. Prologue

Authors Notes - Hello there, this story is going to be one big unhealthy relationship~3

With that said please enjoy!

I own nothing

Not. Beta. Read.

OoOoO

"Maybe now we can reach some agreement," Nigel smiled, it was twisted and wrong and nothing meant to be so cheery with that much blood sprayed across his retro bowler shirt. "Now that you have a better understanding of the position I seem to find myself in."

The man in question groaned, choking on his own blood and vomit as he coughed to breath within the plastic bag gripped tight around his head. Nigel gave that bag another twist, pulling it tighter to drag the gasping man to his feet. "I've given you more than enough warning to get the fuck out of Bucharest Charlie and I've more than made myself fucking clear on the topic of my darling Gabi. I'm afraid I simply can't find it within myself to forgive your trespasses any longer." he shrugged, lightly tapping the barrel of his tokarev TTC semi auto to the side of the gasping man's face, "It's time I took my dues from that squeaking cunt of yours."

"Le-ave Gabi alone, y-you greasy f-uck…" The man with his head in a bag wheezed, fingers slipping as they gripped the hand that held him so tight by the plastic around his neck.

The bad man tsked shaking his head as he pushed Charlie back into a hole, one freshly dug by the one spitting blood and vomit with a gun to his head and the promise of Gabi's freedom from Nigel.

"Charlie my boy, you keep forgetting one essential fact." He stepped away from the hole, back and out of sight to leave Charlie with the sound of a car door and a voice he hadn't wanted to hear.

"Nigel," Gabi gasped her face streaked with tears as her husband carried her struggling form into view, hands fastened behind her back and ankles tied to keep the beautiful woman still. "Nigel please what are you doing?"

He held her close, easing her to her feet to ignore the groans of protest sounding from behind as he helped the woman of his desires keep her balance. "Gabi is my wife," He smiled with a gentle voice meant all for her, combing back a lock of soft copper colored hair to grip the silky tresses by their root when she jerked to pull away, "until fucking death do us fucking part." Crushing her lips in a bruising kiss he cupped the smooth curve of her angel ass, squeezing the familiar mound before pushing her back into the hole with a rough shove to land on top of Charlie.

Licking his lips as though cleaning them of her taste he aimed the tokarev, heaving a sigh as he watched the pair struggle, "My darling Gabi, I hope that when next we meet you'll have learned a little better commitment," he ignored her screams, firing a shot to take the beautiful woman between the eyes before turning his sights to Charlie, "and you Charlie, I warned you boy, that everything could turn to blood in the blink of an eye." He popped the clip, reloading it with a fresh one and drawing the barrel, an action done solely for show, " Limbo ends here." His smiled only grew as he watched frightened eyes widen as they stared down the barrel of a gun.

Nigel was death and this crusted piece of piss had just bought a ticket to Charon's ferry ride.

OoOoO

Still riding the thrill of a day made bloody with broken bones and spraying blood Nigel entered the beautiful condo of his Bucharest home with a bottle of single malt scotch in one hand and a fist full of mail in the other, kicked the door shut behind him before he toed off his shoes and walked the short distance from his entrance to his kitchen.

The bottle of scotch, a gift from his good friend Darko to help him through his time of grieving, Nigel deposited on the counter grabbing a glass from the cupboard and a set of onyx whiskey rocks from the freezer. He poured himself two fingers of the amber liquid and tossed it back before turning his attention to flicking though a small pile of bills at hand, reading the name of the debtors he dropped the envelops onto the counter one by one for later payment, even big fish had to pay to keep the water running.

He paused as he came to one envelope different from the rest, its paper containing a higher thread count than most people's bed sheets. With his address scrawled in all too familiar loops of writing on the fine stationary Nigel dropped his remaining mail to be leafed through again later, a wicked grin pulling the corner of the bad man's thin lips as he read the return address. Pouring himself another three fingers of Glenfiddich he walked with the glass and letter to drop onto his couch, sinking into the leather sofa as he regarded his mail. "And what do you have for me today?"

Glass in hand he took a deep swallow of the well-aged scotch, tasting the smooth flavors of honey and tarragon that lingered on his pallet as he slipped a thumb under the envelopes edge to tear the thick paper open, pulling from it several folded sheets of equally heavy writing paper that might have been better described as parchment. Unfolding the thick sheets Nigel found he couldn't suppress the grin that split his face, the first page a sketch sent from his brother.

It was beautiful as all Hannibal's sketches were, drawn with soft lines to show the flow of wispy curls caught in sun light and soft lips gently parted as though begging to be touched. Digging his phone from his pocket Nigel pressed the speed dial for his twin, taking another drink of scotch as he let the pad of his thumb run along the scruff drawn jaw of an angel who's eyes never seemed to focus on him.

"Hannibal," He smiled as the familiar voice of his brother sounded through the receiver. "Wanted to let you know I got your letter," he drank again in the delicate strokes that had recreated the beautiful man depicted before him like a renaissance masterpiece, "and the sketch you sent with it. Is this Will Graham, that patient you keep telling me about?" The patient he kept asking him about.

Nigel was only half listening as Hannibal prattled on about how he would know if he'd bothered to read the letter before calling, he was far too interested in looking at those eyes set before him. Skittish in nature and framed with the curl of thick dark lashes he knew would look exquisite when half mooned over pale cheeks in the throws of ecstasy. He knew they were blue despite only being sketched in graphite. Something tinged more grey than the color of a true ocean sky, Hannibal having described the man in question to him in great detail one evening during one of their usual calls. He stared at those eyes now, unfocused and staring off to the side, drowning with too much emotion as they were lost to the world.

He wants to meet those wondering eyes, he wants to make them focus on him.

TBC

OoOoO

Thank you for reading!

Please leave a comment as they will get you faster updates. C:


	2. Favors

Enjoy the chapter! C:

I own nothing.

Not. Beta. Read.

OoOoO

"Agent Crawford," Jack caught the phone on its second ring, dark eyes ghosting over the text outlining one of their more recent murders as he pressed the cool plastic of the receiver to his ear. It had been a local artist's third attempt to create a flesh and bone mermaid. One made by skinning and sewing the legs of a young woman together and replacing her flesh with layers of fish scales all quilted together like a rainbow sleeve of shimmering textures. The whole case had left a sour taste in his mouth and that taste had turned bitter as bile when the victim became one they couldn't save, the girl taking her own life with the fish filleting knife used to skin her while the FBI was in hot pursuit of her tormentor.

Jack knew losing a couple of lives was all part of the job, but that didn't mean he had to like it, just that he couldn't let the loss interfere with his work.

Despite the recent case still eating at him the quirk of a smile pulled his somber lips into something with humor as a familiar accented voice greeted him over the line. "Jack, it's Petre Morar."

Smile set more firmly in place he dropped the disturbing document back into its folder, leaning back to better give his old friend the undivided attention he deserved. "Don't worry I remember you Petre, it's been a while. Nearly two years, how have you been?"

"I've been well," he sounded both pleased and tired, as though something was eating at the edges of his mirth, "Luminita is pregnant again, she's hoping for a girl this time, trying to even the scales some."

Jack snorted a quiet laugh, "That'll bring you up to three won't it? The two boys should be hitting around three and five now right? I can see why she might want another girl in the house."

"Mm," Petre hummed his agreeance, sipping something on the other end of the line Jack could easily imagine as a strong cup of coffee. There was a seven hour time between Bucharest and Baltimore setting his friend at ten o'clock for a late night phone call to be reaching Jack at three. With that in mind it didn't' take a genius to know Something was up. "How's Phyllis been doing?"

The mention of his sick wife brought a moment of hesitation to the agent before he could answer. "She has lung cancer, fourth stage. We're trying to fight it." He left out the part where the doctors thought it would be terminal and was thankful Petre didn't push.

"I'm sorry to hear that Jack." Despite the simple words he could tell by the give in his old friend's voice that he meant it too, not just speaking the empty words expected of him. He still cared, even if contact wasn't always the best between them.

"Its fine," pushing thoughts of Bella to the back of his mind to settle among the rest of the shadows that followed him day to day Jack put his investigative skills to use, "So what can I do for you Petre? It's been two years, you called for a reason."

A humored laugh laced with exhaustion sounded through the phone familiar in all the ways it had been during their shared time in Italy. "Cutting to the chase already? You must be busy with work, I understand, so am I." There was a moment of silence, the man on the other line sorting his thoughts, "I've been keeping up on the news Jack. You have been doing exceptionally well as of late with catching the bad guys. I would like to know how you have been catching so many high profile criminals."

He knew there was something. "I'm an old hand at this Petre, just like you. Having some troubles of your own?"

"It might be a gang war for territory, or drugs. I don't know." The tired man answered honestly, "At first we were getting missing person reports, a couple here or there. Nothing too abnormal until the number kept rising. Now we're finding some of those missing persons as bodies on display. These people are being found hanging from telephone wires and roof tops. We think it's some kind of warning, but to who and why we have no idea, nothing to go by." Jack could hear the turn of pages through the receiver, could almost see Petre sitting at his desk flipping through the sheets of his own reports one by one in search of clues that weren't there; Reports with very loose ends and very angry families. "Six years ago I matched your mother for a kidney Jack, I did you a favor to saving her life and now I'm calling that in, I need to know what you're doing to find these killers. We're following procedure, but we keep coming up empty handed. I need something Jack. People are dying and I'm getting desperate."

Silence fell between them, the quite long and filled with all the potential for lies and half-truths, ones' that would keep Jack's golden ticket to the ripper close at hand. "His name is Will Graham." He paid that ticket forward.

OoOoO

"I want each of you to log onto your student account tonight and carefully examine the evidence present in each of the photos provided. You should be able to create a profile for the killer using the evidence from these images alone, I want to see that profile on paper and on my desk first thing tomorrow. You're dismissed." Will's students knew better than to ask questions regarding their assignment, or the information provided for it. They could raise their hand and hold it high above their head all they liked but the only thing it was going to achieve was a very sore arm and some extra irritation by class end.

Turning off the projector Will stepped behind his desk as the flood of students found the door to disappear from his classroom, leaving their teacher to sort through papers and pack his shoulder bag in peace.

"You're creating quite the workload for yourself with that bit of homework. Those young minds could come up with anything to slap on paper. Any reason you didn't feel like providing them with some kind of outline?" Jack smiled, strolling into the large room as the last of Will's eager student filtered out.

"I don't have a check list when you have me to stand in front of a body Jack. Why should they?" he answered matter of fact, "Either they see it or they don't and in this case there's only one right answer." He had posted the photos from an older case for the students to observe, one he'd profiled nearly six years past. As far as Will was concerned everything needed to profile the killer was in plain sight, all anyone had to do was open their eyes and look. But then again to Will it was always in plain sight, Jack was just too blind to see it; along with the rest of the world.

"You're the teacher." Jack succumbed, stopping in front of his favorite profiler's desk with a weight in his step that spoke volumes to Will about how much he wasn't going to be enjoying their next conversation. "Will, I've got a favor to ask you."

The man in question didn't look up from his bag as he stacked folders and papers to slide in alongside the laptop already tucked away, "What's the favor?" Will asked with only a moment hesitation, because only fools and knights offered themselves up blindly.

"It's a big one, but it's one I owe to someone else." Jack clarified, waiting for Will to more than less look at him. Stormy eyes settled on his tie before he continued, "I need you to go to Bucharest."

"Bucharest?" blue gray danced closer to the man's dark eyes, settling on his lips when he found he couldn't take the last step to meet cool pools of brown. "Why do you need me in Bucharest? That's hardly your jurisdiction Jack. I'd more expect you to ship me off to Alaska than Romania."

"Like I said Will, it's a big favor." But he honestly was asking and not demanding that he go. Will thought that might have more to do with the man wanting to keep him local and at his disposal rather than actually caring about Will's opinion on the trip. Jack had a way with bullying him into what he wanted. Will didn't see any reason for him to suddenly change that now. Not unless it paid off some advantage for himself, like keeping him handy for the next possible Ripper case.

Looping the messenger bag over his shoulder Will regarded Jack for a long moment before answering, his words sharp and clipped. "I'm not a tool to be loaned out Jack. You can't offer me up to someone like a cup of sugar." Because like a cup of sugar some part of him wouldn't be coming back. It was the price he had to pay every time he looked.

"There's good money in it for you, you'll be able to teach your lessons over Skype keeping up with your classes and the department is prepared to pay you for all work done on their behalf along with any living expenses while there."

Will almost wanted to laugh, "You know it's not the money Jack." Not once had he ever imagined himself having this conversation with Jack, one entailing the pushy agent trying to convince him to _leave_.

Will felt his lip curl as he watched his part time boss change tactics; apparently more desperate to ship Will's ass off to Russia, Romania than previously suspected. Whatever favor Jack was repaying was either one hell of a debt or this friend was the next best thing to Bella. "Will, I don't think in all the time I've known you I've ever seen you leave country unless it was pertinent to a case. Even then it was only overnight in Mexico." He leaned forward, hands settling on the desk between them to try and catch the illusive eyes that always seem to avoid his own, "This case isn't as bloody as the Rippers Will. It would be easier for you to look, less damaging to your psyche."

This time he did laugh; a dark humorless bark. "It's never _easy_ to look Jack. There is no nice way to empathise with a psychopath. I relive those murders. Do you really think it's any _easier_ for me to watch myself strangle a woman than it is to flay a man?"

"Will-" Jack tried to start again, voice stronger, edged with the authority he used to often to force his way.

Will didn't give him the chance, letting stormy grey meet muddy brown just to make sure his point hit home. "I get that you owe this guy a favor Jack, but don't try to push that on me. As far as I'm concerned I'm doing you a solid every time I step out of this classroom and into the field."

Turning to leave Will barely made it three steps before he felt the push of another thick folder forced into his bag. "Just take a look at the file Will. It's been going on for over a month with no leads; these people are dying and you know you can stop it."

"I'm getting real sick of your pushing Jack." He didn't stop, refusing to look back as he left the classroom.

OoOoO

"You're looking stressed Will, more so than usual. What seems to be the trouble?" Hannibal questioned, his usual charming mask in place as he to entertain his favorite dinner guest.

"It's Jack," Will didn't even try to hide it, knew there was no point. Hannibal could read Will as well as Will could read anyone.

Catching a cherry tomato between crooked teeth Hannibal chewed thoughtfully at the small roasted fruit, letting the flesh burst in his mouth with acidic flavors and sweet juices. "Sending you after more of the monsters than you can handle?"

A sardonic grin pulled his lips, "No actually, he's sending me away."

That made the doctor pause, Hannibal carefully regarding Will for a long moment before taking a cut of the sautéed rabbit he had prepared, "Away? I find that difficult to imagine, Jack has made himself rather reliant upon you. I feel he would find himself lost without his favorite bloodhound by his side." Useless would be the more accurate term, "Where is it that Uncle Jack is sending you?"

The comment tugged a slightly more honest smile to the usually somber man's face, Will having thought the same thing. Jack had grown too reliant upon him since pulling him back into the field, Will honestly wasn't sure he would know what to do without him. "Bucharest, Romanian."

This time when the doctor took a moment it was to lay down his cutlery entirely, opting instead to sample his wine with the turn of conversation; Too many words to be shared with the discussion of Will's possible departure for one to be dinning.

"That truly is peculiar," With a twist of his hand Hannibal watched the swirl of rich liquid cling like blood to crystal walls, crimson tears forming in the liquors wake as the doctor scented its heady aroma, "What business does Jack have in Bucharest to be sending you after the monsters there?"

"He doesn't," Will answered while not, taking another bite of meat so tender it seemed to melt on his tongue. "He owes a friend a favor and somehow I'm it." All flavor seemed to evaporate as his old friend stress ate away his appetite, leaving Will to set aside his own silver wear much as Hannibal had, leaning back in his seat to regard his therapist and friend more fully.

Sipping the pinto noire to let flavors of black cherries and currants dance over his tongue Hannibal tried to place his mind in Bucharest and the more recent events he had read regarding the Romanian city. "I believe I may have come across a few articles pertaining to the case Jack hopes you'll be pursuing." Hannibal offered, his keen mind already forming new plans with the sudden development. "There has been speculation of gang wars, possibly over drugs or territory, but nothing substantial has been found in regard to the murders with the exception of a body count." Maroon eyes turned up just in time to catch a flash of stormy grey, the profilers fleeting gaze dropping to study his lips instead, ever elusive. "Though the victims have been found beaten and in a few cases displayed, the murders in Bucharest could be described as reserved in comparison to what you are accustomed to when working with Jack."

Will quickly read between the lines, surprised by when he found there. "You think I should take this case?"

"I think you should take a vacation from Jack." He clarified. "The shadows you will be chasing in Bucharest are far less than the ones you have been chasing here."

"I'm at a loss for words," Will admitted, wondering exactly how much wine he'd drank since arriving, it obviously wasn't enough. "You honestly believe this would be good for me? With how unstable I've been you think I should go to Bucharest?" He debated tossing back the remainder of his pinot noir like a cheap shot, table etiquette be damned he needed the drink.

Hannibal slipped his mask to one of reassurance, voice taking on the blended tone of therapist and friend. "It is in both my personal and professional opinion that you take this opportunity. I believe the time away will help your stability, not hinder it. I think a 'vacation' would calm you."

Silence fell between them as Will's eyes skirted lower to settle on Hannibal's hands, their skittish gaze wanting to avoid the man's face altogether for what it might read there, "What if I need you?" It was asked in a quiet tone, almost shamed. Will recognized the stability he took from Hannibal with their every encounter and the growing dependence that lay there.

If he had allowed his gaze to remain on the doctor's face he might have caught the slight pull of lips in a not so friendly smile, a flicker of possession passing through warm maroon eyes and the barest slip of a mask to something darker, something that owned. _"I sincerely hope you do,"_ Were the words left unspoken as he sampled another taste of the heady wine, thoughts of Will's growing dependence while trapped in Bucharest dancing through his mind's eye.

Will was a lonely man now, but he would be desperate once he was isolated. With no acquaintances to call friends or dogs to come home to the messages and phone calls to Hannibal would be a life line for the profiler, one he would use like a lure to guide Will like until he willing swam into his net with a longing desperation to be owned. "I will always be available to you by phone, day or night and there is of course e-mail. I will send you a schedule of my availed times before, during and after appointments each day. And we can continue your weekly sessions over Skype."

With Hannibal backing Jack Will felt as though he didn't have a leg to stand on. "You honestly believe this will be good for me?"

"Will, I am not in the habit of repeating myself." But he was enjoying watching those walls of resistance crumble around Will enough to say them again, breaking forts with the clever words of his tongue, "Yes, I believe getting away from Jack and the Ripper would do you good."

Resolve gone he tossed back the blood colored liquor like a shot of cheap whiskey. "Fine," He regretted the words even as they slipped between his lips, "I'll go."

OoOoO

TBC


	3. Jet Lag

Authors Notes: So I've done a BUTT load of research for this chapter (an amount of which involved translating a Bucharest police site with babble fish to try and get the information I needed) so please be kind if you find inaccuracies and want them corrected, I can only do so much and after spending close to thirty hours on this one chapter I'm going to post it.

Also, I keep getting the question as to why Hannibal didn't go to Bucharest so I'm going to explain it here for everyone.

Hannibal has a life of his own, he can't just drop everything and run away to Bucharest on a whim.

He has a practice he has to maintain and he has a plan he's going to play with while Will is away. If the man was to suddenly drop everything and follow Will across the world when they're not even dating (and unlike Will he wouldn't be getting paid for it), it would just seem crazy. Even to Will.

For this reason Hannibal is remaining in Baltimore.

I will answer any questions people have in regards to the fic but please keep in mind that this story is only just starting and it's planned to be a loooooong one. A lot of this stuff is going to be explained as I go. C:

Also, this chapter got reeeeeally long and I had to split it up…so Nigel is in the next chapter instead of this one (sorry). But it was that or this chapter would have been 10K plus!

Anyway, read on and enjoy~3

OoOoO

Chapter 02

Thanks to an unhealthy blend of insomnia and anxiety Will was already up and more than less awake when the sound of a knock came to his door at quarter past four. "This should be interesting," Will muttered, abandoning the coffee pot half filled with water to hush his excited pack with a quick tsk and answer the door. He was only slightly surprised to find his unexpected visitor was Hannibal Lecter, the man standing on his front porch showered, shaved and dressed in a warm fitted cashmere pull over and slim charcoal slacks, what the good doctor considered to be his 'casual best'. "Good morning Will," He greeted, sounding far too chipper than anyone had any right to be with the moon still hanging low in the sky and stars blinking in the early hours of the morning. "May I come in?"

Holding the door a little wider Will stepped to the side allowing his friend entrance, "What are you doing here Hannibal?" Will felt it was an expected if not reasonable question considering most of the population would still be in bed asleep, and as far as Will was concerned, through eccentric, Hannibal was very much one of those normal individuals who should still be in bed.

"Your flight leaves at nine fifteen, I would like to see you on your way." He offered in explanation, entering the little farm house with one of his more rare and genuine smiles. "I thought you might appreciate a drive to the airport and a hot breakfast." Hannibal lifted what appeared to be a thermal bag as he found Will's little table, unloading several expensive containers that Will knew would be Hannibal's version of home cooking, a of mouth-watering meal better suited to a five star restaurant than Will's little kitchen.

Following his unofficial psychiatrist Will gathered some of his better plates and cutlery to set the table as Hannibal sorted containers of fresh diced fruit and eggs with sausage, "You didn't have to do this." Will said even as his mouth began to water, a small awkward smile pulling the corner of his lips as perfect coffee pour into the mugs set between them.

Maroon caught stormy grey, their gazes held as he allowed Will to read the genuine friendly intent alight within, "I beg to differ, it will be all too long before I see you grace my table again Will. I would very much like to make the most of what little time you still remain here," fingers sliding along the containers edge he paused, "That is of course if you'll have me."

Will let that small smile made foreign and strained from lack of use pull the corners of his mouth into something a little wider and more genuine, the skin by his eyes creasing as he took a seat across from the man he was going to miss most, "I'd like that, thank you."

"Good," Popping the lid of the first container Hannibal handed Will the thick glass tupperware, "I thought for our last meal we might return to where we began."

Will didn't miss the poetry as he scooped a healthy helping of fluffy protein scramble onto his plate. A reminder of just how far their friendship had come since the morning of Hannibal's first visit to his little house. He would be making Will eat his own words with every bite of fluffy well-seasoned egg and juicy sausage.

"I still don't find you that interesting." He grinned around his fork, looking up at the doctor as he took at bit of savory meat.

The look was met with one of pure amusement, "Liar."

OoOoO

"Thanks for the drive Hannibal and offering to handle the packs kenneling. You really didn't have to put yourself out." Will had been more than prepared to leave the pack in Jack's unwilling though capable hands and bring his own car. The idea of parking for the extended trip to collect an exuberant parking fee upon his return for Jack to reimburse had been more than a little appealing, but the friendly insistence to see Will off and offer for pick had him leaving his Volkswagen at home to make the ride out to Baltimore with the doctor.

"It is no trouble at all. You hadn't expected Uncle Jack to fly you out first thing in the morning and arrangements are still needed to be made." He answered popping the trunk to help Will with his luggage, "It is of no inconvenience to me to assist a friend."

Hannibal, ever the courteous gentleman, left Will feeling more like he was being seen off by a lover rather than a friend, his unofficial therapist holding his carry on as he handled pick-up for the last minute ticket that had been purchased on his behalf and the weigh in of his other luggage. It wasn't until they stood before the first security gates that Hannibal at last relinquished the bag, having accompanied Will as far as airline security would allow without purchase of a ticket.

"I would like for you to call me when you arrive in Bucharest." He requested, handing the bag back for Will to loop over his own shoulder.

Arching a brow at what sounded more like a polite order rather than a friendly request Will looked at his ticket, eyes scanning the departure and arrival times printed in thick black letters under the gate. "It'll be three in the morning here." He offered in argument.

"And I will be up." He didn't miss a beat, seemingly unfazed by the early hour. "Please, I'd like to know you've arrived safely."

Left feeling a peg of guilt at the thought of Hannibal wasting his evening waiting for him Will offered a compromise. "I'll send you text."

"I find that agreeable." He smiled, leaning close enough for Will to feel the warmth of his body though thin cashmere and smell the earthy spices of his cologne as he brushed a stray curl behind the profiler's ear, invading far more of Will's personal space then necessary. "Have a safe trip. I look forward to sharing dinner with you upon your return." The kiss that was pressed to startled lips was enough to make Will's his heart stop, leaving him frozen as the doctor pulled away to brush a calloused thumb over the rough hair of his jaw, reading something in the startled man's expression before the pull of a smile found his thin lips and he took his leave, walking away with steady strides.

Without thinking he lifted fingers to trace the still tingling skin of his lips, afraid he might whip away the dream of Hannibal's flesh against his own if he touched their mark directly. "Hannibal?" he found his voice at last, watching his back disappear as he receded into the crowd.

Handing his ticket and passport to the security at the first clearance door Will paused on the other side of the gate when he heard his cell sound for an incoming text. Stepping to the side so not to obscure other passengers he fished it out of his pocket, checking the screen to find a message from Hannibal reading three simple words.

"_Check your bag."_

Falling back in line he followed the slow stream of passengers to the next set of gates, opening the carry on Hannibal had been so insistent upon holding. Will raised a brow in quiet regard as he found what the doctor had hidden inside; it could only be a book, the hard rectangle bound in matt black paper with a thin gold ribbon fastened around its middle, a gift for his flight that left Will's stomach doing interesting tricks.

"He's flirting with me," Will felt the warmth of a blush he was all too happy the man in question was not present to witness crawling under his skin. The gift might have been mistaken as a friendly gesture if not for the kiss, but Hannibal had wanted him to see the present exactly for what it was. Feeling his face grow warmer at the memory of lips against his own Will slipped his fingers beneath one corner of the thick paper, tearing the edge away to watch an unexpected small white capsule tumbled free of the wrapping.

"What?" Picking up the runaway pill Will rolled it between his fingers, checking the outer shell for any telltale signs to what it might be. Finding nothing but clear gelatin filled with powder he glanced to the upcoming security and slipped the small capsule between his teeth, catching it to hold between his molars before it could appear anything more than a tic tac. Seeking further explanation Will returned his attention to the book, quickly stripping away the remaining wrapping to reveal the hard cover collection of thesis written by none other than Dr. Chilton. "Not what I was expecting," Will muttered around the pill, opening the obnoxious tittle to examine the jacket for further clues. He wasn't disappointed as several thick folded piece of paper slipped from behind the inner cover.

Unfolding the heavy stationary Will was forced to smile as he read over the quick message scrawled in elegant loops unexpected of a medical professional.

_Dearest William,_

_I had intended for Dr. Chilton's recently published collection to be a birthday present of sorts, however with recent developments I feel it may be better suited to keep you company during your long flight. I myself rather enjoy a good comedy while traveling. I hope you will find the same mirth while skimming the doctor's words that I have._

_Enclosed with the book you may have also noticed a small white pill. It is a melatonin capsule; take it now and another when you reach Bucharest. You will find the remaining bottle in the upper left corner of your suitcase. They will help quicken the recovery from your jet lag._

_I have also enclosed a short list of some sights you may wish to explore during your free time while in Bucharest, having taken vacation in the Romanian city a number of times over the years these remain to be a few of my personal favorites. _

_I wish you luck on your investigation as well as a safe flight and quick return. My table shall be entirely too empty without your company._

_Yours,_

_Hannibal_

Dry swallowing the capsule still set between his teeth Will turned to the second page of the letter finding a short list of cafés, restaurants, museums and a number of shops he wouldn't know what to expect in until he took the time to visit. The following page after that was a drawn map of thick and thin inked lines illustrating the heart of the city with each of the shops mentioned on the previous page featured upon it.

Will touched the fine line of the main road, following the ink with his finger until he came to a turn onto one of the many side streets. It was beautifully drawn, Hannibal's incredible skill showing in the precise placement of each stroke. Between the drawing, letter, list and breakfast Will had the sneaking suspicion that Hannibal hadn't bothered with sleep at all the night before, instead sacrificing his evening to share dinner with Will and upon his departure set himself to the task of creating something beautiful for the disembarking profiler.

"He's too good to me," Will told himself as he tucked the thoughtful letter and book back into his bag before loading it and his shoes into an x-ray trey. Passing through the final gate with his bag back in hand Will once again searched out his cell phone, pressing the quick dial for Dr. Lecter. He wasn't surprised to hear his friend answer before the end of the second ring. "You were expecting my call."

"Call or text," Hannibal confirmed. "Do you like the book?"

"It wasn't quite what I'd been expecting." Will admitted, looking at his bag and the read he anticipated to be more of a headache than anything enjoyable. "Care to explain your motive?"

He could almost hear the smile, an almost inaudible hum and the barest tilt of lips that one could so easily miss if they weren't looking for it. "Something to keep you entertained. I think you'll find this copy to be rather one of a kind."

The curious comment left Will wondering if there was a key typo listed repeatedly throughout the work, "And the melatonin?" He asked changing subject, his throat still felt sticky where the pill had scraped against its back on the way down.

"It will help you regulate to your new sleeping cycle, a natural non-addictive drug to assist in re-setting your biological clock." Will heard the car door and could easily see Hannibal as he climbed into the Bentley, leaning back in his seat completely at ease.

"Thank you." Will said as he debated dropping into one of the many hard plastic airport seats lining the waiting room, he was exhausted but with thoughts of an eighteen hour flight ahead of him Will ignored his tired bodies vote for an uncomfortable chair in favor of stretching his legs a little bit longer before his confinement. "You didn't have to get me anything. The send-off and breakfast were more than enough."

"I wanted to." He reassured him, "It could be quite some time before I see you again."

"Hopefully sooner than later," He closed his eyes, focusing on the voice in his ear and the face in his mind. He could see him so clearly, the two of them sitting in Hannibal's office having another one of their 'conversations', not over a phone between an airport and a car. He wanted to be in the office now.

"I find myself hoping much the same." He would be looking at Will while he would be looking anywhere else, maybe over the man's shoulder or letting his eyes unfocus as he followed the pattern on his tie.

He opened his eyes, letting the vision of Hannibal fade away as he cast a glace to the letter tucked safely away in the side pocket of his bag, "You gave me quite the list of recommendations, I didn't know you were so fond of Romania."

"I have vacationed there a number of times." He explained, "Bucharest is a beautiful city in its own right, though my tastes run closer to Florence, I still enjoy my time there. I hope despite that case you might enjoy some of your time there as well."

A moment of silence fell between them as the unexpected question was asked. "Will you kiss me again when I get back?"

"Would you like me to?" Neither question was answered as the announcement for boarding sounded over the intercom and the murmur of passengers gathering their baggage rose in volume around him. "That must be your flight."

Will was clinging to the last of home through the sound of Hannibal voice, knowing that once that call ended he'd be on a plane and pulled away from everything he knew and loved for weeks. "Yeah, they're boarding now. I'll send you a message when we land."

"Have a safe flight Will, enjoy the book."

"I'm sure I will." Ending the call Will fished his boarding pass from his bag and made his way to the stretching line, the thin piece of paper seemed to hold far more weight to it than it had any right to as he handed it and his pass port to the man at the counter and walked down the ramp for the plane.

Finding his seat Will looked out the book he'd packed for himself, an old paperback by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. His hand paused over the hard cover purchased by Hannibal as he made to re-zip his bag. Despite his dislike for Frederic Will found himself leaving the Sherlock collection in favor of what he expected to at least help him fall asleep on the flight before tucking his bag into the overhead and dropping into his seat by the window.

Opening the book he read the beginning thesis title and laughed. The large block letter print reading "The Chilton Theory of Criminology" was followed by the ever familiar soft curl of Hannibal's pen, _"A touch egotistical isn't he?"_

Thumbing through the pages Will found much to his delight that the thin blue cursive could be found between lines and in the margins of nearly every page. "A comedy," He grinned remembering the letter as he returned to the first page and began to read.

OoOoO

Will had known walking into the airport that flying from Baltimore to Bucharest was going to be at least a little unpleasant, but he still hadn't been prepared for the jet lag that came with eleven hours on a plan and two three hour stop overs.

Exhaustion didn't even come close to the kind of tired Will was feeling, he hadn't slept on the plane and hadn't expected to. He had a hard enough time sleeping in his own home, never mind sleeping while crowded by other people. It left him feeling disoriented, dehydrated and desperate for a bed. Any bed really, he'd crawl in next to the Ripper if he'd let him get some shut eye.

Trying to blink away some of the sleep from his eyes Will searched for a clock, feeling his stomach drop as he read the early hour. It was ten in the morning, making it three for his biological clock. Will had been awake for just over twenty-six hours and was running on only four hours of sleep and three cups of bad airplane coffee. He'd count it a miracle if he didn't take a nap on the _baggage carousel._

Despite his exhaustion Will rooted through his pant pocket to retrieve his phone, turning the signal back on to send a quick message out to the man waiting for safe arrival. "_Here, not dead._" If Hannibal wanted anything more articulate than that he'd either have to wait until Will found a bed or take up conversing with a rock.

Pushing the phone back into his pocket Will moved with the tide of bodies, letting himself be lead to the baggage carousel as he silently prayed to whatever deity that might be listening he not be forced to look at a body until he managed at least a few hours' sleep.

Hearing a loud buzz, one Will personally thought might have been made to replicate the wailing of an alarm clock and startle the tired passengers awake, he watched as the conveyer belt began its slow turn around the island; the loud thump of luggage being thrown behind the dividing wall onto the carousel drawing jet legged passengers closer in the hopes of getting their bags first and getting the hell out.

Not feeling the same need to fight with bodies better rested than his own Will stood back and watched as bag after bag drifted by, eyes skimming the luggage for his own plain navy suitcase with the length of neon colored rope tied to its handle.

When at last he saw his suitcase slid out from the split plastic curtain Will pushed through enough of the crowd to grab it by its handle and drag to the side, shouldering himself free of the chaos to head for the door. His next challenge would be finding a cab to take him to a motel, but at least he'd have a bed when he was done.

Carry-on over one shoulder and luggage trailing behind him on rolling wheels Will left the airport through rotating doors, stopping in the blinding morning sun as he was greeted by an unexpected escort. Will stared for a moment as he took in the officer who had been roped into being his pick-up, the man dressed in a suit was holding a neon strip of bristle board above his head with 'William Graham' printed on it in crooked thick black letters.

Cursing his luck Will took a deep breath to brace himself for the series of meetings he was not yet ready to receive and strolled toward the man in the suit. He looked bored but attentive, obviously watching for the profiler who would be leaving the airport and had no idea he would have somebody waiting for him on the other side. Will had been under the impression that he would be disembarking, grabbing a cab to his cheap hotel and given enough time for a coffee and a piss before having to play the game of meet and greet. Apparently that memo had been changed during the flight.

"Special Agent William Graham?" the man asked as he approached, lowering his sign to offer a hand in friendly greeting when Will nodded.

Adjusting his shoulder bag he accepted the friendly courtesy, shaking hands with the stranger and trying not to read his life story through his simple actions, clothes and eyes. But the man wasn't making it easy. The officer that had been sent to meet him was wearing him life on his sleeves, care free except for a mortgage and happy with his lot in life, "Yes, good morning." Will replied though it felt like the middle of the night, even with the sun blazing down on him Will's body knew it was three in the morning and was doing it's damn best to try and remind him that he should be lying in his comfortable bed staring at his ceiling and willing sleep to find him while surrounded by snoring dogs, not standing in the late morning sun in Bucharest, Romania.

"I am officer Alexandru Vasilescu, thank you for coming." He offered a warm smile, taking Will's shoulder bag as he led the tired profiler to an old Volkswagen, popping the trunk to push the carry on inside before taking the rolling suitcase to follow its lead. "I know you must be tired Domnul Graham, but Chestor Morar would like to see you before you get settled in your room for the day. I do not believe you officially start with us until tomorrow."

Nodding Will followed him into the car, dropping into the passenger seat with all the enthusiasm of a dead man. All he wanted was bed. But if he couldn't have that he'd settle for coffee. This man, Chestor Morar, was a friend of Jack's and like Jack this man was a high ranking officer. Will didn't want to embarrass himself any more than he had to with his jet lagged cognitive skills. "Sure, that's fine. Do you think we could grab some coffee before we take off?" Will wasn't sure he could be trusted to remember his own name without prompting right then, he didn't want to try meeting his temporary boss until he had at least a little caffeine pumping through his system.

"I can only imagine how tired you must be Domnul Graham. There is a café not too far from here I sometimes go to with my wife. Let me buy you something to eat as a welcome to Bucharest. It will give you a chance to wake up a little before we see the Chestor." Staring out the window Will nodded as they pulled into traffic barely aware, frankly Will was tired enough that Officer Vasilescu could have been offering to shave his head and Will probably would have agreed.

He really needed to sleep.

OoOoO

The café had turned out to be a small pretty thing with a hand full of tables set up on the street side, it was busy but Will took that as a sign of good coffee and decent food. He'd dropped into one of the outdoor chairs with the same enthusiasm he'd shown in the car and let his escorting officer order for him, Will ended up with a fresh made panini and an espresso dark enough to peel paint. After the first sip of much needed caffeine Will was pleased to find that his initial impression had been right.

It took another double espresso and a coffee to go before Will was feeling even remotely coherent, his mind a puddle clouded by sediment waiting to settle, but at least it was better than the zombie that had been parading around in his skin before.

When they arrived at the station Will was led through an atmosphere simultaneously familiar and foreign as he followed the eager officer leading him to the Chestor's office. Alexandru was talking and he was trying to remember the multitude of murmured information being fed to him but despite his best efforts Will didn't expect to remember more than half of what the officer was spouting. He just hoped it would be enough to get him by until he could discern the layout for himself.

"Just one moment Domnul Graham." Officer Vasilescu smiled as they came to a door, knocking twice and waiting before they heard something in Romanian Will didn't understand and the man disappeared inside. A few more muffled foreign words were exchanged and the door opened again Alexandru leaving as the man inside stood to wave Will in.

"You must be Will Graham. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Chestor Petre Morar. When we're on duty I'd like you to call me Chestor Morar, off duty Domnul Morar." The man behind the desk beamed friendly and open, his teeth were crooked and stained yellow from tobacco but he smiled to show them off all the same. "Jack's told me all about you Domnul Graham, you're quite the profiler. Thank you for taking the time to come visit." He offered a hand, shaking Will's own before indicating the seat across from his desk.

Sliding into yet another chair and wishing he could stand for just a little bit longer to stretch his legs, Will offered what he hoped came off as a friendly sort of nod. Hannibal said he was rude when scared or irritated and from what he'd read on Romania before his flight the people took great pride in good manners. Meeting an official with jet lag was not about to do him any favors if he couldn't' watch his tongue. "Jack said you needed the help."

"Yes, we have a rather elusive killer in our mists." He pursed his lips, studying Will's tired form to take all of the 'star profiler' in. As far as Petre could tell the unshaved baggy eyed man who sat before him didn't look like much. If he had to describe him he thought he looked warn, as though he were on the verge of breaking. "Have you had a chance to read the file?"

"I have, but I'm afraid it's not going to do me any good. I need to see the crime scenes in person in order to make a proper profiler for you, the fresher the better. It helps me get inside the killers head." He focused on the Chestor's lips, it was the best he could do for eye contact and he hoped Jack had taken the time to explain some of his more peculiar quirks. "Did Jack explain to you how I work?" How his empathy worked.

Petre had to admit he had found the entire idea of leaving the man alone with the corpses a little disturbing and his method of profiling more so. Climbing inside the minds of killers made him sound more crazy than useful, but he was desperate and Jack had sworn by the young man. "Yes, he mentioned your peculiar needs for the crime scene. Does that mean I'm going to have to wait for someone else to die before you can give me a profile?" he wasn't impressed.

Will bit his inner cheeks; bit them hard enough to taste the copper tang of blood as he kept his sour comments to himself. This man wasn't Jack and right now he was the one controlling Will's living arrangements along with his ticket home, as much as he wanted to snap with his over tired agitation he pushed the irritation that came with no one understanding and the looks that screamed crazy aside. "I can go through the file and revisit a few of the kill sights, look at any of the corps' you still have for processing. Pictures are hard for me to work with but I'll see what I can come up with." He offered, reading everything so clearly from Petre's face. The special kind of crazy he was pegging Will to be. It was the same kind of crazy Freddy often cited him as and it was making him mad. "But if you don't mind, I really need to get some sleep before I can start any of this. It's been a long flight."

"Of course," Petre gave him one last long look over before rising from his desk, pulling from his drawer a temporary badge and file. No gun or cuffs, the missing weight would leave him feeling naked when standing over a body, but it was something he'd just have to wait and deal with. "The first page of the file contains the address for your temporary residence, they'll have a key for you at the main office, just show them a piece of ID."

Will nodded taking the file as he rose from his seat, "Thank you."

"Will I be seeing you in the morning Domnul Graham?" Walking around his desk Petre saw Will to the door, offering his hand in one last 'friendly' hand shake.

"I'll be in at nine." He promised.

Stepping out the door and all too happy to hear it close behind him Will was met by a still cheery Vasilescu sitting in a chair across the hall, "How did it go?"

Opening the file Will scanned the page, tapping his finger on the address provided, "Would you mind giving me a ride?"

OoOoO

TBC

Thank you for reading!

You're favorites are riding circles on the baggage carousel, your comments are still asleep on the plane.

OoOoO

Domnul - An honorific holding the equivalent of 'Mr'


End file.
